


Shore Leave

by Apostrophe (tangiblewhimsy)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry has a much better read on him than Len would like, Blink And You Miss It Slash, Canon-compliant (mostly), Just kiss already you fools, Len doesn't know how feels work, M/M, Mild Angst, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:37:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangiblewhimsy/pseuds/Apostrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Waverider is back in early 2016 so the crew can have some down time before their next attempt to stop Vandal Savage. Len's first stop is to the friendly neighborhood superhero for a little chat.</p><p>[Spoilers for events in both Flash Season 2 and Legends of Tomorrow in the notes section at the beginning of the fic. You have been warned.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jedyro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedyro/gifts).



> This takes place not that long after Snart and the Legends left on the Waverider in 2016. Some time has passed, but this is likely before Harry's betrayal and Earth-2, so it's also definitely pre-power loss. It is, however, post-Old West for Len, though maybe pre-Pilgrim. So he hasn't seen Lisa yet, and he's in a bad place.

The instant Len's feet hit the ground in 2016 he knew where he was going. He knew it was the wrong thing to do, he knew he owed his time to others; he knew this was going to be a mistake. He was going to regret it and it was going to hurt. But fuck it, he figured everything hurt anyway, what was adding just a little more?

He could hear a voice on the other side of the door, but he didn't worry. He'd already seen Detective West leave, and the likelihood that Barry had 'overnight guests' under his foster father's roof was slim. Len had considered knocking, but he knew Barry's daytime schedule. He knew that in less than a minute Barry Allen was going to open his front door, prepared to rush to CC Jitters for a morning coffee on his way to work.

Three...

Two...

One...

Barry pulled the door open with a casual sort of force, the sort of carelessness that comes from habit and comfort. He'd already moved his body forward in preparation to step through the open door, stopping short and gripping the doorknob with a sudden jolt to keep from toppling backwards and avoid walking straight into Len. Len smirked, the tightness in his chest easing for the first time since leaving 2046.

"Morning, Barry," he drawled, amusement only growing as Barry's shock morphed to an attempt at annoyance, but Len could see the up-turned corners of his lips as the speedster tried not to smile. 

"I gotta go, Cisco. Trouble just showed up on my doorstep," Barry said into his cellphone. He looked Len up and down, and when his gaze paused at Len's hands the thief offered up one of the two to-go cups he'd brought with him. "And apparently it brought coffee."

Len waited, focusing all of his attention on not gripping the coffee so tightly in his tension that he'd accidentally crush it. Soft hands, soft touch. Much like surgeons, thieves needed precision and control. Len's had been slipping lately, a thought which was distracting enough that he worried his hand was going to tremble. Thankfully, Barry relieved him of his burden and Len immediately pulled his hand back to slide into his pocket.

"What?" Barry spoke into the receiver again, finally breaking eye contact with Len. "Oh, no. No, I don't think that'll be necessary, I can take care of it myself." As he spoke, Barry shifted to the side, a silent invitation for Len to come in. 

Not needing to be told twice, the thief stepped into the West house, maintaining his smirk all the while. He took long, sure strides through the entryway and into the living room, peering idly at the photographs and knickknacks adorning the mantle over the fireplace. So many smiling faces looked back at him, though each time a wide, guileless grin caught Len's eye. In his pocket he had to curl his fingers into a fist before finally turning back to face Barry. 

Barry had closed the door behind Len and finished his conversation with Cisco, his phone still hanging loosely in one hand. Len was surprised to see the smirk he was being given, expecting a stronger attempt at a scowl. Then again, the last time Barry would remember them speaking was just before Christmas. If Len remembered correctly (and he always did), Barry had been smiling at him then, too. Although as the conversation they'd had at that time came to mind the warmth that had been spreading through his chest evaporated. A lot had happened since then. Or at least a lot had happened for Len.

Barry's grin faded as his brow furrowed. 

"What's this about?" Barry asked, and although the lack of tact could have given a hostile impression there was no bite to the words. 

"About?" Len repeated curiously before shrugging his shoulders. The action felt mechanical and forced, but he'd never been good at faking nonchalance around Barry Allen. He'd considered it a problem for a long time, but right now... Right now, he needed someone he couldn't lie to.

"I'm back in town for a little while, thought I'd drop by and have a chat with my old pal."

Shifting on his feet, Len dropped himself down into the chair he'd waited in at Christmastime, nodding for Barry to join him. Barry snorted but looked at his coffee before sipping it and moving to the couch to sit down as well. They were both silent for a stretch, and while that should have made Len nervous, made him uncomfortable, made him anxious to leave and end this mistake before he took it too far... It didn't. After months of being crammed into a time-traveling spaceship with 6 other people (give or take, a voice in his head reminded him bitterly) and managing to feel completely isolated, here in a silent living room sitting eight feet from a single person Len felt more centered. He felt safer. 

"So is someone going to try and kill me again?" Barry asked, the forced casualness of his laughter catching Len's attention. That was supposed to have sounded like a joke, he was sure, but the concern beneath the question was completely real. 

"What makes you think that?" Len wondered, not trying to be evasive for once.

Barry shrugged his shoulders. As he looked down at the plastic lid of his coffee, fingering the sharp rim absently, Len noticed how tired Barry looked. For the first time since showing up, Len felt a pang of regret. He had known going in this was going to be selfish, but if it was going to be too much for Barry then he'd leave. He was pretty practiced at handling his own shit by now. (Or at least he ought to be.)

"This is the second time in as many months you've showed up at my house with a hot beverage. I thought maybe this was the start of a pattern," Barry answered and looked up, treating Len to a grin and a soft but at least genuine chuckle. 

"Two points are simply a line, Barry. Three or more are what make a pattern. You're a scientist, shouldn't you know better?"

Barry laughed loudly in spite of himself and the sound caused Len's chest to swell. His own grin returned, settling onto his features more comfortably than it had before.

"Alright, fine," Barry grinned and shook his head, relaxing back onto the couch and taking another sip from his coffee. "So if my life isn't in danger—or at least no more danger than usual—" Barry interrupted Len as he parted his lips to speak, eyes glinting with amusement over the top of his drink. "To what do I owe the... Visit? Tired of only having psychotics and your little sister to keep you company?"

"Psychotics I can handle, it's the sociopaths I'm getting sick of," Len admitted. The way Barry's eyebrows hit his hairline told Len he'd been more honest than the kid had expected. Pulling his hand from his pocket, Len shifted his now cold coffee between his hands and crossed his legs, taking a sip of his beverage as he got himself settled. 

Barry watched him expectantly and Len returned his gaze coolly.

"Being a hero is decidedly less fun than being a rogue," he said before taking another meditative sip of his coffee.

"You've given it a try then?" Barry asked with a short laugh that wasn't quite a scoff. Len couldn't fault him for his skepticism, though he appreciated that the twinkle in Barry's eye appeared to be a genuine sort of excitement rather than derisive amusement.

"Wasn't given a whole lot of choice," Len shrugged with that calculated casualness he was so used to affecting. "An immortal maniac is going to destroy the world and as luck would have it, I kind of live here."

Of course he could frame it as self-interest for Barry, and he could frame it as glory hounding for Mick, but they both unfortunately knew him just a little too well. Mick would be closer to correctly identifying Len's reason for trailing along with Rip Hunter's merry band of fuck-ups, of course, but he'd also known Len a lot longer.

Barry's brow knit with worry again, his comfortable amusement waning at the news. 

Despite having spent countless hours thinking about seeing the man sitting across from him, taking comfort from the thought of being in his presence again, Len hadn't focused too much on the details of this moment. There were things he was allowed to say and not allowed to say—although no one on his current team seemed to be very good at following those rules. Part of Len wanted to share everything he'd been through, discuss the weird shit he'd seen and been involved in, the sacrifices he'd been forced to make for a team which apparently saw him just as he'd taken to seeing himself: as a coldblooded killer.

Diverting his gaze to the cup in his hand, Len's grip tensed around the delicate cardstock. 

"Snart, what..." Barry paused mid-question, seeming to change his mind about what he wanted to ask in the moment. "What happened?"

Len's lips twitched, an attempted smirk twisting into a self-disgusted sneer as he swallowed tightly around the knot in his throat.

"I broke our deal," he confessed. Len was honestly impressed with how even he'd managed to keep his voice, considering the bile clawing up his throat and the fact that he could barely breathe.

Out of the corner of his eye Len could see Barry shaking his head even before he spoke.

"I don't understand," Barry said, and bless the kid's obscenely oversized heart, he sounded like he was genuinely trying to wrap his head around the painfully simple concept. Len couldn't help marveling at how Barry was always trying to see the best in people, even when it just wasn't there.

"It's like I told you, Scarlet, I'm a criminal and a liar..." he said as he finally looked Barry in the eye, "And I hurt people."

Barry's lips parted but he said nothing. Len waited, counting the seconds internally as a way to gauge the severity of the reaction. As he waited, he watched Barry's face shift from concern, to pain, to confusion, before finally settling on, of all things, concerned again. Len's own brow furrowed as he frowned deeply at the man across from him. How was disappointment not oozing from Barry's pores right now?

Shaking his head, Barry sighed as he leaned forward to place his empty cup on the coffee table. He ran his hands through his hair, scratching along the back of his neck before pressing his palms together in front of his face. Len watched Barry's expression intently, doing his best to try and read the 'hero's' reaction, to gauge what he was going to say next and prepare himself for impact.

"What happened, Snart?" Barry asked again, looking at Len directly as he asked. "You wouldn't be telling me this if it was something you thought was justified. Which means that something had to have happened to make you feel—"

"Villainous?" Len taunted, using his hands to make sarcastic quotations in the air. Considering he'd been the one to come to Barry it was counterproductive to be antagonizing him, but Len couldn't help the knee-jerk reaction to someone skirting too close to the truth.

Barry, to his credit, did not raise to the bait for once.

"I was going to say guilty," he said, staring unblinkingly at Len with a startling amount of compassion. The kind of look that one person only gave another when they were intimately familiar with a painful experience, the kind of experience that only a few people ever shared.

"When did you do it?" Len asked, unable to school the alarm from his features quickly enough. Barry immediately diverted his gaze to the coffee table again, lowering his head slightly.

"We're not talking about me," Barry shook his head but clenched his hands tightly around his knees.

"Well, maybe we should be," Len said seriously, finally uncrossing his legs and leaning forward over his own knees to inspect Barry more critically. Before he could begin any serious analysis, however, Barry picked his head up again and met Len's eyes.

"Quid pro quo," Barry gave a mirthless smirk before letting his expression drop again. "You tell me what happened, and I'll tell you what happened."

Len held Barry's gaze for a long while and said nothing. He'd come here for a... a reprieve, of sorts. Some banter, a familiar connection with a familiar face in a familiar time. So much of traveling through time involved being different people in different places, and while Len was no stranger to putting on an act, part of him had craved being himself again. The fact that ambushing The Flash for a tête-á-tête was what brought him that feeling had been something Len hadn't been keen on examining too closely. It had been the only thing he had to hang on to while he traveled on the Waverider without anyone he could trust by his side, the only thing that brought him back to why it was he was willing to join up in the first place. Now that he was here in the moment, however, Len wondered if he shouldn't just get up and leave.

"You're familiar with Vandal Savage?" Len began, pausing so that Barry could recover from the obvious shock of hearing the name. He'd been informed that The Flash and The Arrow had had a run-ins with Savage, but Len hadn't been aware of any details. He made a mental note to ask for Barry's version of events later, but for the moment continued on with his own.

Len told Barry everything. About being 'recruited' ("Kidnapped, is what the more ethically minded would probably have called it.") by Rip Hunter, about the other 'Legends'. He told Barry about being lied to, about the various pit-stops through time they made. All the while, Len was aware of how this conversation might change things, how he might be causing irreparable harm to the timeline, ruining all of the work that the team had tried to put in the last several months. As Barry shifted on the couch only to settle in, to give Len his full attention and listen quietly, without interruption, Len found that he didn't really care. So much had happened that he'd spoken with no one about, now that he had a captive audience Len found that he couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to.

He told Barry about Mick, and then about Salvation. About how he'd betrayed the one friend he had to stay with people who wanted nothing more from him than to kill on command. How he'd taken it further than that in Salvation, how he hadn't waited for first draw. How he'd murdered men because they were there and he knew he could. He couldn't bring himself to admit that part of the reason was because feeling disgusted with himself was one of the only things he'd been able to feel at all at the time, because the selfishness of that tasted of acrid bile on his tongue. The way Barry looked at him, however, Len was fairly certain that the man could guess his motivations all the same.

When Len reached the end of his story, he stopped and waited. Barry had been sitting back on the couch, arms crossed over his chest, listening with the closest thing to an impassive expression Len had ever seen on the hero's face. Of course there were occasions when a particular description or admission caused a twitch in Barry's face, the occasional furrow of his brow or a wince he couldn't hold back. Overall, however, he remained impressively collected and silent. Len wondered when, exactly, Barry Allen had matured so much.

Barry said nothing for a long stretch of time. Len braced himself for the questions, the accusations, and the lectures. 'I thought you were better than that,' 'You could have stopped yourself,' 'How could you do it??' All questions Len'd been playing over in his head nearly daily since first leaving Mick behind. What was this all for? What was the point of being a hero if to do it he had to be the worst scoundrel he'd ever been?

When Barry took in a deep breath, Len squared in shoulders in preparation for what was to come.

"The first man I killed was named Al Rothstein," Barry said, staring intently at his knees.

Len's shoulders sagged and his brow knit in concern. The sudden change in topics had not been what he'd anticipated, but what was more disconcerting was the fierce concentration Barry appeared to be using to keep his voice steady. Len looked over the man in front of him, how his feet were planted firmly onto the floor, arms wrapped around himself so tightly that it looked to Len as though Barry were trying to stop himself from falling apart. Len's hands twitched with the urge to reach out, but he clenched his fists to stifle the action. Barry had listened to him, and now it was his turn.

Quid pro quo.

"He was too strong to subdue, I couldn't..." Barry paused, took a deep breath, and released it slowly. "I still think about all of the things I could have done instead. But I wasn't strong enough to face him, and we had nothing to hold him, no way to stop him. I keep telling myself that it had to be done, but I don't... That's not how it's supposed to go, you know?"

Len didn't. Killing was never something he'd particularly enjoyed, but it had been a 'solution' to various problems throughout his criminal career. Then again, that was exactly the feeling he'd had when he'd returned from marooning Mick all those months ago. Heroes were supposed to be better than that, weren't they? But Len wasn't a hero. He wasn't a hero, and that's why he hadn't been good enough to think up another solution, an alternative that wasn't a base betrayal. At least that was the reason he let himself believe (at least half of the time).

"There have been others since then," Barry admitted as he finally dragged his hazel gaze up to meet Len's. He swallowed hard but maintained his focus. "I never thought... There was only ever one person I'd thought I was capable of killing. Only one. And when I got my chance, I couldn’t do it. I sometimes wonder if maybe that's why I was able to take the step with Rothstein. I never wanted to make the same mistake twice."

"The difference between you and I, Barry, is that you did it to protect people," Len said, unsure whether or not he was trying to reassure the young hero or remind himself of his own choices. People too often accepted easy ways out of dilemmas like this if it meant not having to face their demons.

"So did you," Barry pointed out, and Len frowned in confusion. "You betrayed Rory to protect the other crew members from him. You might care about the mission a little bit, maybe, but your investment... It's never about the big picture with you. It's always the details, and the details here are the crew. Or whatever you'd call them."

"That sounds plausible, except for one thing," Len said as he leaned back in his chair once more, settling against the cushions behind him. Barry quirked an eyebrow at him curiously and Len shrugged. "I'm not overly fond of any of the bastards. Mick was the closest thing to a friend I had, we were partners. Look what I did to him."

"I think that only proves how much you do care," Barry said with a shrug of his own. "And why it hurt so much to find out that they were all okay with you doing something like that to Rory. You wanted them to see—"

Barry cut himself off, glancing at Len appraisingly. It was Len's turn to offer an inquisitive look. Barry shifted on the couch, rubbing at his hair again in a way that could only be called fidgeting.

"I wanted them to see what, Red?" Len prompted when Barry failed to continue. 

Barry pursed his lips obstinately as he stared at the mantle above Len's head. He appeared to be thinking, and trying to do so quickly. After another moment of silence, Barry finally looked at Len properly again.

"You wanted them to see you the way I do," Barry said at last, holding Len's gaze.

The pair continued to stare at one another in silence for a long stretch. Len's first instinct was to deflect and deny, but he found the words hard to come by with the way Barry was watching him. With his heart beginning to beat painfully against his sternum, the pressure to speak mounting even as he failed to come up with any cohesive reply, Len was decidedly grateful for the startlingly shrill digital chirrup of his wrist device.

Shifting, Len pressed the requisite button to answer the communications hail and spoke into his wrist.

"What is it?"

"I apologize for the interruption, Mr. Snart, but Captain Hunter requests your return, post-haste," Gideon spoke clearly and courteously.

Len was torn between wanting to throw the device into a fire and wanting to take the offered out immediately. Glancing up at Barry and seeing the kid's eyes bright with shock and awe caused Len's lips to tug into a soft smirk, encouraging him towards the former option.

"Is this an emergency, Gideon?" Len asked, returning his attention to his comm.

"Gideon?!" Barry all but squeaked from the couch before practically leaping to his feet.

Now that was an interesting reaction.

"While I would characterize the circumstances as urgent, Mr. Snart, the answer is no, there is no emergency at current."

"Then tell Rip I'll see him when I see him," Len sneered before closing the line and standing as well. Now that he was on his feet, Len couldn't help looking around him. The moment of connection was gone, and all that was left was an old thief standing awkwardly in his nemesis's living room.

"I— Wait, hold on," Barry stammered as he took a step closer, clearly resisting the urge to grab Len's wrist and pull it closer for inspection. Taking a moment to consider the consequences, Len obliged the unasked question and held out his arm, tugging back the sleeve of his coat to reveal the device around his wrist. The way Barry's face brightened, no trace of the earlier solemnity remaining, Len did what he could to refrain from laughing.

"Is this future tech?" Barry asked as he came close enough to almost stick his face against Len's hand. On instinct Len took a step back to maintain some distance between their bodies, but otherwise he continued to keep his wrist exposed for examination.

"It's a nifty little toy Rip decided to give to everyone this trip," Len explained, leaving out the part where he was pretty sure the reason everyone had been given one was to try and avoid another accident. It just wouldn't do to leave any more crew members behind, even if it was in the right time and their chances of mucking up the future were minimal.

"And Gideon? Is it—is she a person, or...?" Barry probed, likely doing his best to sound nonchalant. The way he bit his lip against excited babbling, however, was a dead giveaway.

"The Waverider's onboard AI," Len answered, not the least bit surprised when Barry clapped his hands triumphantly.

"I knew it!"

"How exactly do you know about the AI of a time ship from the future?" Len asked with a raised eyebrow. His curiosity only increased as Barry tried to get control of himself, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly and avoiding Len's gaze.

"Because I... sort of made her. Or at least I'm going to. In the future," Barry admitted, unable to contain his grin.

Len held Barry's stare unblinkingly as it took several moments for the implications of that statement to sink in. As the gears in his brain clicked into place, Len couldn't stop himself from looking Barry up and down appraisingly.

"You've been holding out on me, Flash," he smirked. Barry chuckled before giving a shrug and letting his hands drop to his sides, sliding the tips of his fingers into the pockets of his jeans.

"A hero's gotta have some secrets, you know? Otherwise where's the mystery?"

"I've never been a fan of mysteries myself," Len drawled as he finally dropped his own arm back to his side. "Too many twists and turns, leaving too many loose ends. I like my capers short, simple, and clean."

"Where's the challenge in that?" Barry scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Len pursed his lips tightly for a moment, willing himself to keep his remark to himself. In the end, however, the opening he'd been given provided a temptation too good to pass up.

"I suppose that's what I've got you for, Scarlet," he said, not missing the way Barry's laughter drifted as their eyes met.

After a moment of silence, Barry finally broke eye-contact with a short chuff of laughter, a hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head yet again as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The kid really was too easy to unbalance sometimes, and the knowledge of that only served to maintain Len's smile.

Figuring that this shift in mood was just as good as any to exit on, Len made his way out from behind the coffee table and towards the entryway. He both heard and saw Barry trailing after him with long, quick strides, but he didn't turn until he was nearly to the door.

"Um, hey," Barry said as he came up even with Len again. Standing much closer than they had to date, Len took inventory of a few interesting changes in the man's appearance, like the amusing shadow of an extremely unattractive mustache haunting Barry's upper lip. Len wasn't sure when he'd be able to see Barry next, or if he'd be seeing _this_ Barry any time again soon. It was worth trying to memorize the details.

"I know that things are... complicated," Barry laughed even as he said the word, aware of what an understatement he was making. "But if you need to... I mean, I'm not sure if—"

Len held up a hand and shook his head to silence Barry before he could finish.

"I don't do tearful goodbyes, kid," he said, the corner of his lips twitching against a grin as Barry broke into another laugh.

"Who's crying? You dick," Barry fired back without hesitation.

Barry then shifted his weight, his arms coming out from his sides momentarily before he dropped them back down again, his shoulders drooping like a wilted flower. Avoiding Len's gaze awkwardly, Barry shoved his hands in his jean pockets again and toed at the floor of the entryway in an attempt to cover for what could only have been an aborted attempt at a hug. That uncomfortable tugging sensation in his torso came up again as Len's chest squeezed tightly. He wasn't sure what he would have done if Barry had attempted to hug him, but Len was deeply grateful the man had stopped himself before he'd tried. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate what it likely meant for Barry to be offering what he thought was support, but Len would just as soon that kind of thing be done without touching. Len had learned from careful observation, however, that the West household tended to do everything with touching. Chewing at the inside of his cheek in consideration for a moment, Len debated with himself the merits of his actions before dropping his hand down and holding it out toward Barry to shake instead. 

Barry looked at the offered hand, eyes widening in clear surprise as he looked up to Len's face and then back to the hand. Len very nearly pulled back again, but before he could Barry gripped his hand firmly and gave it a gentle shake.

"Catch you later, Snart," Barry teased with a grin.

Although his expression shifted to surprise again as Len pulled him in by their joined hands to pat him on the shoulder.

"I'd like to see you try, Flash," Len taunted before pulling back again and finally dropping Barry's hand.

Opening the door to the West house, Len let the door hang open as he exited at a brisk pace. The crisp morning air had given way to something slightly warmer, the low clouds having finally been burned away by the steadily rising sun.

**Author's Note:**

> This mostly comes from my personal annoyance over how poorly Len's character was handled in the first season of Legends of Tomorrow. I can accept that he was hurting bad guys and whatnot, and that he was brought on as muscle along with Mick, but after leaving Mick behind Len kind of went off the deep end, ESPECIALLY in Salvation. He was killing people left and right, and usually not with any good reason. That just goes so far against the grain of all of the character development he'd had during The Flash and the early portion of Legends that it just boggles my mind that it was NEVER ADDRESSED. So here. This is me addressing it.


End file.
